Pool Hall Ornaments
by Tigerdust
Summary: My holiday-themed sequel to my Nick/Greg story, "Pool Hall Junkies". Not necessary to read first, but it's a hot story if I do say so myself. I don't own the characters or CSI, but the plot is mine and the band came from an idea I saw on Rick Steves.
1. Chapter 1

"Greggo, I have a question." Nick stood in the doorway, absorbing the overall impact.

"Go ahead, Nothing stopping you." Greg's eyes flickered briefly in the direction of Nick's voice before returning back to his work.

"Well…I was just wondering. Not that I don't appreciate it or anything, but are we not going to be playing pool the entire month of December?" Nick's arms moved in conjunction with the question in his voice and the shrug in his shoulders.

Greg blinked as his face swiveled, encountering the questioning glance in Nick's eyes and the creases in his forehead. "What would make you think we're not?"

"Maybe the tree smack dab in the center."

Greg stepped back and smiled, admiring handiwork that didn't involve bodies. "You don't trust me?"

Nick shook his head. "That's not what this is about."

"Are you telling me you didn't want your house decorated for the holidays? Because that's just not going to happen for the guy I'm dating."

"It's not just my house you know." Nick walked into the room, surrounding the space just behind Greg.

"You don't have to remind me." Greg's voice lowered as though oxygen was no longer moving through his lungs.

"I could though." Nick's teeth grazed the tender skin of Greg's neck before scooping upward to his the bottom of his ear.

Greg giggled before slightly trying to push Nick away unsuccessfully. "Hey, stop it! I've got work to do."

Nick grabbed Greg and turned him so that his bulge was facing Greg's. Greg leaned backwards, his palms using the pool table for stability. "I could give you some work to do."

Greg shook his head. "Not until I'm finished. Now go on…I'll just be a few minutes more."

Nick sighed and chuckled before backing away to his favorite chair. He remembered his best friend from the fraternity. He would have dropped everything for a few minutes in heaven with Nick. But Greg was different. Greg knew that he had his body and his bed, he was so secure. That same security had been Jake's Acchilles heel. Nick attributed this to them both having just been kids, scared and alone for the first time in the world. They had both learned a lot. Nick remembered the impact, the sucker punch to the gut when it had happened. He'd have to let Greg in on that whole story. Greg could see it in his eyes every so often as they lay together in the still of dawn, if they'd both had a night shift to pull. You couldn't hide much with those white cotton sheets of his.

As for Greg's motivation to decorate for the holidays, Nick was rather impressed. He relished the ability to let his creative freedom fly. Nick really didn't feel a need to decorate for Christmas. Truth was, he hadn't been stable long enough to get a taste for it. But Greg had been a natural, taking to the simplest domestic tasks with an eager relish. Nick knew why. Greg's fear was that he'd be turned out, but Nick could see no circumstance in which that would happen. That's how Nick knew when to hold the smartest and quickest brain in the lab. He knew every shiver of pleasure, pain, and doubt that ran through the younger man's body. It pleased Nick to no end to know such things. Great were the mysteries of a lover's body and sweet was the honey in achieving resolution to those questions.

"What?"

"I said, as long as you're sitting there, you might as well help." Greg was blinking in his direction and Nick jumped from his favorite leather recliner. The barcalounger had taken up residence in the rec room and was easily the pair's second favorite place in the house. Except for Jeopardy and the occasional episode of BBC World News, Nick and Greg didn't have a lot of time or inclination for television. They preferred interaction with each other through sports, conversation, even reading. It was easily the most intellectual relationship either had ever known. The occasional concert was also fun to explore.

The three foot artificial Douglas Fir sat under the stained glass lights of the billiard table. Greg had once made a remark about it and acquiring a matching set of desk lamps, "a pair of old school lamps like the ones in the law library at UNLV" had been Greg's ingenious idea. Nick had just shook his head. It was hard to tell when Greg was kidding.

Nick chuckled and Greg pointed to the base, where he had matched a piece of round cardboard to the color of the table. "See? You had nothing to worry about."

"I should have known better than to doubt you."

"Yes, you should have." Greg confirmed with nod.

"There's only one thing that's missing before I help." Nick's head swiveled around the room before he walked over to the stereo.

"And that would be…"

"Music, man. How could you decorate without any tunes?" Greg batted his eyelashes to Nick's question. It just hadn't occurred to him. "In any case, I want this to be even more perfect than it already is."

"Perfect?"

"A million times better than I would have invested in it. Impressive, to say the least. All we need is some stuff on the roof and it would be like my sister's house."

"You have a sister?"

Nick fiddled with a couple of dials before landing on Delilah's station and than making a disatissfied face. "Yep, in Dallas. I told you that."

Greg shook his head. "No, you told me that your parents lived in Austin before you headed out west for college. We hadn't gotten to siblings yet."

"You'd like Valerie, Greggo. She's a big fan of murder mysteries."

"Ah, but the question is…would she like me?"

Nick turned from the stereo and put his hands on his hips. "And what would make you think she wouldn't?"

Greg shrugged. "I don't know. Being the guy that keeps her big brother from having a white wedding might top the list."

Nick smiled and shook his head. "Val's not like that." He returned to rummaging through the back of the stereo, looking for a fallen case. "I hope she'll come out here with her kids once so you could meet her. Ah-ha! Found it."

"Found what?"

Nick pulled a case out and showed it behind his back. "The perfect Christmas cd, Greggo."

Gregorian sounds began to float through the wired room as the sounds of Prepare the Royal Highway warmed the space. "What is this?"

"They're called the Twelve, Greggo. It's a Bavarian Chamber Choir famous the world over for amazing Christmas symphonies. They're supposed to be starting their first world tour right here in Vegas. They were invited to perform in Ceasar's Palace."

"You gonna go to see them?"

"Nah. Don't think I'd be able to afford the tickets." Nick sauntered back to Greg's side. "So, is there a certain pattern to your ornament decoration? I know some people are quite particular about that."

Greg stroked his chin with thumb and pointer finger. "No, not with this set of ornaments. And I'm sure you'll be able to appreciate them."

Opening the box, Greg felt Nick pull him into a bear hug. "Have I told you lately how much I love your sense of humour?"

Greg fell into his cowboy's arms. "No, but I appreciate when you do. How about we get these decorations on first and then you can go appreciate the job I did with the holly on the footboard."

"I like that idea."

Nick loved the way his and Greg's reflections shown against the billiard ball themed ornaments. They were various shades of red that glowed well against the yellow mini tree lights. As fingers and thumbs brushed each other, Nick became aware of Greg's touch and his own heart beat. Greg became aware that he was blushing and felt incredibly lucky that Nick couldn't see it in the ornaments. He loved the feeling of being so close. They both did.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two in the morning_, Greg thought grumpily as he fiddled with the static on the radio. He kept an eye out for miscellaneous traffic not watching where it was going as he headed down Maryland Parkway to another crime scene. _Why is it_, Greg mused, _that people don't have the decency to murder each other or at least find the bodies after eight? Eight would be all right. That's about the time I wake up to Nick cooking bacon, the crisp smell of meat wafting through the house and rushing into my lungs seductively…_

Greg shook himself. Just like the promise to take separate cars to work, Greg had to force himself to adhere to the game face rule. It's not that Nick was ashamed, he didn't particularly care who or how people jabbed at his choices in life. The partitions were merely formal courtesy. Most of the co-workers in the lab, and by that Greg meant people, who were close friends or even simply everyday acquaintances, just did not need to know if they didn't already suspect. The result just made Nick look like a responsible father and Greg as his goofball son. Guess you can't blow down the hut if it's made of bricks.

It was also chilly, Greg noted with slight interest. Tourists never suspected early morning cold in Vegas and usually remained huddled inside the casino. Greg had noticed that Nick took early morning opportunities such as these to run a mile or so around the block. Greg remembered that the LVPD marathon was approaching again and he'd be an annual cheerleader and water boy for Nick if he wished to run.

Greg also made an observational note about the corporate suites at the Ramada Inn as he climbed the stairs. Without the fancy elevator music at the Palms, oddly enough he had heard "Superstition" play four times in the past two months, apartments in Las Vegas could remind him of any other inner city where people tried to take on the arduous task of living normal lives. But this was not a normal place.

Flashing his badge, Greg was met with the sight of Gil Grissom bent down on his haunches, looking up into the eyes of a young man about Greg's age. He skin was pale, most likely caused by the amount of blood the carpet had soaked up from the slice in his hand.

"What do we have here?"

Greg nodded at Gil as his mentor and boss began rattling off the facts of the case while his glasses slid another millimeter down his nose. "Caucasian male, approximate age twenty-five. Wallet intact and left on the desk near the bed with the desk lamp still on."

"Robbery gone wrong?"

Gil shook his head. "Not likely. Money in the billfold hasn't been touched."

Greg was going to make a comment, but thought better of it. If it had been an accidental homicide during a robbery, the killer wouldn't have positioned the victim forward at a small dinner table. As it was, the young man's face was smooshed into a half-eaten plate of what appeared to be beef roast and baked potato. A bottle of red wine sat chilling near a small basket of rolls.

"Do you think the shattered glass might have had something to do with all the blood?" Greg talked as Gil photographed evidence and placed little yellow stands around different objects.

"There's a good possibility. Small sharp objects and wine rarely mix."

Greg moved into the kitchen, opening cabinets. "I can't smell anything. Must have been cooking the roast a while ago. Hey, these are nice wine goblets."

Gil spoke from the other room. "Focus, Greg. We're not shopping for dinner ware."

Greg turned to address Gil. "That's not what I mean. I mean that these aren't the type of glasses normally provided by a corporate suite company."

"I just got the call. What did I miss?" Nick stood at the doorway, briefly surveying the guy face down in his entrée.

"Young male deceased. Possibly caused by blood loss associated with this broken wine glass. Best to watch your step."

Nick nodded at Gil. "I'll do my best."

"Excuse me, may I have a word?" Nick turned to see an older woman with a coiffed blond bun wearing a grey hoodie and a pair of black evening slacks, her Bluetooth in sharp contrast to her otherwise comfortable looking nature.

"Do you know the deceased, ma'am?"

The blond woman shook her head and offered Nick her hand. "I do. My name is Eva Remind. I'm the international coordinator for the chamber group known as "The Sixteen." That is one of my two baritone."

Gil walked from the crouched position next to the body to address Eva, standing by Nick's side. "Could you make a positive identification for us?"

Eva nodded. "I don't have to even walk in the room to know that it's Julian. Such a pity, such a promising talent. The spark of life for our little group even when we met him during the first casting call in Brussels ." Eva proceeded to shake her head afterwards, her eyes closing momentarily.

"I'm sorry. This must be difficult for you."

Eva took a deep breath. "It is. But we have an alternate available during such emergencies. I had hoped nothing would happen though. Julian and Marcus were such good friends."

"May we speak to Marcus?"

Eva nodded as Nick address her. "Of course, he's staying three doors from Julian. Marcus is the one that found him."

Nick approached the officer standing in front of the third door from the left, flashing his badge. "Mr. Dresian?"

Marcus Dresian sat on the bed and looked as though he had crumpled in on himself. Only approximately older than Julian by a few years, Marcus' eyes were haggard and blood shot from crying. His arms were folded, giving him a feeling of needed security and boundary.

"My name is Nick Stokes and I'm with the Las Vegas crime lab. I understand you found Julian Rascoin?"

Marcus' breathing was labored. "You'll have to excuse English, not my first language. I try very hard."

Nick nodded, kneeling so that he could force Marcus to look at him eye level. "I understand and just know that we appreciate your cooperation. Take as long as you need and just start at the beginning." Nick tapped Marcus on the shoulder as a comforting gesture.

"Thank you." Marcus stated with a bit of relief, "I just don't know. We were having a late dinner and my phone began beeping. I was gone for only ten minutes, returning to find an open door and my friend dead. We joined the singing group at the same time, meeting on the train from Brussels."

"How long have you known Julian Rascoin?"

"We've been touring together for four years now and have become great friends, seeing many things in this world. We had just toasted Julian's luck. He had won one hundred American dollars from a machine in Paris."

"We only found one plate of food on the table, Mr. Dresian. Where's yours?"

Marcus nodded, pointing to the oven. "I was keeping it warm. I took my plate when my phone began beeping. Julian had an intuition about food. It seemed such a shame to let it become cold."

Nick nodded, standing. "Thank you again, Mr. Dresian. We'll be in touch."

Marcus bit his lip. "I cannot say how I will sing again, Mr. Stokes."

Gil met Nick as he exited the apartment. "How did the interview ago?"

Nick blinked. "Well. Marcus seems very broken up about the man dying that's he about to replace. Says they were great friends and still has his plate from dinner. I'm wondering if poison might be to blame?"

"Think Mr. Dresian had something to do with the murder?"

"I hope not, but he is a performer on stage. You never really know how broken up someone's going to get over a friend's death."

Gil nodded. "Let's see what we get back from the Lab."


	3. Chapter 3

"Barber of Seville. Feeling classical today Doc?" Nick entered the cold steel room of slicing and dicing the cadavers and addressed Dr. Robbins, who was examining the body of Julian Rascoin with care, precision, and just a bit of tactical reverence.

He didn't even look up from his work. "I don't think I've ever heard you share an interest in classical music with me."

Nick moved with an unassuming shrug. "You can blame the Looney Tunes for hooking me on classical music."

"Ah yes. Cartoons, the great equalizer." His voice was dry and Nick was certain that the coroner was being more than slightly sarcastic.

"So, what do we have?"

"Well, Mr. Rascoin died in nearly incredible health, most likely due to his European diet and great regimen of exercise. I'd also like it noted that his diaphragm was one of the most well-built I'd ever seen."

Nick looked into the cavern where the organs had once presided. "Well, he was a performer for the Sixteen. Any idea what caused his death?"

"The preliminaries have just begun, but I'm not sure we can rule out foul play." Dr. Robbins blinked and then proceeded to point something out to Nick.

"How so?" Greg entered the room, noting the Barber of Seville in the background and walked over to the body.

"I was just showing Nick what I've ruled out here." Dr. Robbins looked up from the scattered mesh of skin.

"Well, that should narrow it down. What do we have?"

The doctor sighed, as if he was going to get very annoyed with the next person to ask that question. "You'll notice the tiny fractures that pricked the skin here from the shattered wine glass. A loss of blood could easily be the cause of death."

Greg shook his head as Nick leaned over to examine the evidence and take a few photographs. "I don't think so. There wasn't much blood on the carpet."

"I didn't say I was finished."

Nick's phone echoed throughout the room. "It's Gil. I'd better take this."

"I think Greg and I can handle the autopsy." Dr. Robbins nodded as Nick answered the call.

"This is Nick."

Gil's voice came over the cell phone. "Nick? This is Grissom. We've got a woman up here that's very anxious to see you."

"A woman? Did she say what she wanted?"

"Well, considering it's Ms. Remind, I'm hoping this is more information for the case at hand."

"I'll be up in a moment." Nick turned from the wall, back to the table where Greg was conversing with the doctor. "Let me know if you find anything interesting."

"Will do. Doc, will you send the contents up to the lab for a tox screen?"

"Already ahead of you Greg. The results shouldn't take very long."

"Well, I'll go see if I can speed up the process a bit." Greg exited the way that Nick had, leaving Robbins alone with the body.

"Ms. Remind. I'm surprised to see you." Nick bowed just slightly as he watched Ms. Remind click off her Bluetooth.

"Mr. Stokes. I just wanted to thank you for your gallant efforts in this investigation. I came to see if progress had been made? Do you know what killed my first baritone?" Her voice was strong, but Ms. Remind's clear eyes had a hint of weariness to them.

"We're working on a toxicology screening at the moment and trying to pinpoint the cause."

"Do you think someone would poison Julian?"

Nick shrugged. "We can't say yet. Our job is to fit together pieces of a puzzle, but trust me when I say that your friend is in the most capable hands in the country."

"I believe this. That is why I've come to tell you that you're on a new deadline."

"Deadline?" Nick shifted his weight and crooked his eyebrows in slight confusion.

"Yes. Unfortunately, I have a bit of pressure from the other members of the choir and our backers to expedite this inquiry. They wish to involve the FBI. I've held them off for now, but your time is growing short. I know how messy things involving your government can be."

"We thank you for the confidence, ma'am."

"I know. But now I am very busy. I must, unfortunately, try to find a replacement for our secondary tenor as well. It seems that Marcus has had a near nervous breakdown. He's not even professional enough at the moment to be on a stage, not that I blame him much."

"We'll do our best."

Nick felt Eva put her hand on his wrist and squeeze. "Don't let apathy receive the best of you. Time is of the essence."

Nick nodded and then watched the blonde leave at a sharp clip. Grissom appeared in the hallway. "What was that all about?"

"A vote of confidence. Any news from the tox screening?"

Gil nodded. "Signs of moderate levels of alcohol, but nothing incredibly alarming. No sign of opiates, barbiturates, or any kind of sleep medication. Our corpse was clean."

Nick bit his lip. "There wasn't enough blood from the shattered wine glass to cause death through blood loss."

Hodges walked up quickly through the hall. "No applause necessary."

Gil turned so that David could join the circle. "What have you found?"

"Signs of a shellfish allergy."

"That doesn't make any sense." David, Gil, and Nick had reconvened in Grissom's office. Several photos were spread out on the desk and the men loafed about. Nick was rubbing his chin with his thumb as he spoke. "There's no mention of any type of seafood from what was on the table at dinner. It was more of a meat and potatoes deal."

"Could crab meat have gotten into the gravy inadvertently?"

Nick pointed to a picture that Greg had walked up to the lab. "I don't think so. If this guy was allergic to shellfish, then he would have been careful about what came into the apartment."

"What about the friend Marcus? Did the friend know?"

Nick nodded. "Marcus seemed very chummy with Julian during the interview."

"Well, there's a can of imitation crab meat somewhere in the vicinity of the crime scene with your name on it then." Gil's glasses reflected his eyes as they locked on Hodges'.

David sighed. "It's always me. Why is it always me?"

Nick replied by slapping David on the back. "Cheer up man. Think of it as an adventure."

"Oddly enough, that doesn't help," David, replied grumpily.


	4. Chapter 4

"Any theories?" Nick looked across the large pile of bags that Greg was sifting through on the lit table.

"No. Only that everyone who lives here loves some form of shellfish. Thirteen cans, Nicky. And all of them rule out victim and acquaintances."

The calendar on Nick's phone chirped and Nick nodded at his phone. "I've gotta head out, Greggo. Ms. Remind has asked me for regular updates on the case."

"You've got a date?" Greg's voice was a weak giveaway to his internal thought process.

Nick shook his head, peering on either side of the door before whispering in Greg's ear. "Nothing to be jealous of. I don't do cheating, Greggo."

Nick was almost down the hallway when Gil and Doc Robbins assaulted him, huddled together. "Nick," Gil called out, "going somewhere?"

"Off to see Ms. Remind," Nick turned to answer.

Gil nodded. "Ask about the shellfish allergy. See if she has any further leads."

"Will do. Should we be concerned with the Marcus at this point?"

Gil shook his head. "I'm not sure, but don't rule out anything. This is obviously not just an accidental dose of crab meat."

Nick back-pedaled just slightly. "Fill me in?"

The doctor excused himself as Gil began to talk, using several photos as visual aids. "Well, you know that normally when someone inhales with a shellfish allergy, the throat swells and several layers of skin have a reaction to the allergy?"

Nick nodded as Gil continued. "We don't find that in this case, which is why allergic shock didn't first fit the profile. What we do find in this case is that the heart was affected and the throat did swell, if only slightly enough to not be visible at first."

"Meaning?" Nick's glance moved from the photos back up towards Grissom.

"Meaning that this was not given intravenously. Someone was very careful and discreet about how the substance entered the body. The tenor may even have injected it himself, never knowing."

"I think I'd better go have a talk with Ms. Remind." Nick began to move down the hallway once again.

"Wait!" Greg came shooting down the hall. "Before you go, you might want to take a look at this." Nick blinked as he read the report, trying to keep a poker face. Greg responded to the moment of silence. "Think this gives us motive?"

Nick very badly wanted to say, _do you know how much I love you right now?_ , However all he could do was think the phrase and nod at Greg in thanks. He'd let him know much later.

Nick looked from Greg to Grissom. "I know she's holding auditions for a replacement baritone and that's where I'll be meeting her. I'll find out what she knows exactly. Have Brass swing by in half an hour."

The interviews were more than halfway complete before Nick entered the faux-coliseum of Caesar's Palace casino. The proceedings were quiet and swift, lead well by the capable Ms. Remind and her American counterpart, Judy Collins. Ms. Collins introduced herself by a swift handshake and Ms. Remind began the conversation while sitting at a table with an open laptop and a desk lamp among the sheets of contender resumes.

"I'm so glad you're here Mr. Stokes. We're having a bit of a… complication finding the replacement."

Nick smiled. "I'll gladly offer what help I can give."

"Can you sing?" Judy stated bluntly.

The transplant Texan was a bit taken aback. This was his mother's dream, not his own. "I believe that's the first time I've been asked."

"Come now, don't you have confidence in yourself?" Eva's almost thick accent allowed her to stumble over the sentence with charm.

"I don't believe confidence was ever an issue for my part, Ms. Remind. What I do need is answers. Did you know that your baritone was allergic to shellfish?"

"And bees. Mr. Stokes, I keep medical records and any medication or Epipen that is necessary for my singing group." Eva's silent blink couldn't hold back the pride she felt in her work and the incensed feeling she received at being accused of slacking at that which she had a multitude of experience.

"Do you also go grocery shopping for them, then?"

Eva shook her head. "They are not children, Mr. Stokes. I control no portion of their diet, although I feel free of myself to make certain suggestions. Nor do I control whether they do respond to medical treatment or not. Singers and actors, always fighting the good fight for the show."

Judy interjected, apparently not pleased with the avalanche of contenders for the two coveted spots, if only for one performance. "I was wondering if you might hum a few bars for us. May I call you by your first name, Mr. Stokes?"

"Yes, call me Nick."

"Very good. Now, if you could just walk over to the stage and perform a small acapella selection for us?"

"I think once this portion of the investigation concludes, I'd be thrilled to. But right now I need to know about the allergies…"

Eva nodded, opening a new file on the laptop waiting before her. "Of course, I'll have this list printed out for you momentarily. Judy, would you mind faxing it for me from the coliseum office?"

"Of course." Judy looked expectantly at Nick. "And who should I send the fax to?"

"My supervisor." Nick pried open the wallet from his back pocket and sifted out one of Gil's business cards. "Send it to Gil Grissom and he'll be very grateful for the information. Just one more question before I ascend to the stage."

"Ask anything you might."

"Did anyone else know of Mr. Rascoin's allergies?"

"Only his best friend and our down-trodden second tenor besides myself and Ms. Collins."

"Don't you mean your son, the second tenor, Ms. Remind?" Jim's voice carried over the table, along with the squawk of various police radios.

Eva's eyes went wide as Nick backed away from the table. Judy's face turned a shade softer than pale as Eva was led away in handcuffs. It was only until Eva was lead away that Judy's eyes moved from the table back to Nick. They were devoid of pleading or the look of someone trapped in an unbearable situation. "Well, I suppose I had best halt the auditions for the moment. Just long enough to call a good lawyer for Eva."

"What if I could offer you a deal that would end this whole temporary audition process?"

"I'm sure I'll be glad for it. Even better when Eva is exonerated."

Nick folded his arms as he responded to Judy, ignoring Jim's signal. "Best to wait and see what happens."

"I think so too. I just can't believe Eva would do this. She loved her work and all those involved alongside it"

"She'll get a chance to answer for herself fairly. I'll make sure of that."

Judy's eyebrows moved upwards in a questioning glance. "How?"

"I'll be the one watching her questioning her personally."


	5. Chapter 5

Jim's tone was flat and expectant, the way that comes with being a seasoned police veteran in a confession room. "Ms. Remind, didn't you feel it was pertinent to this investigation to give us a hint as to your son's birth mother?"

"I did not see how it was a secret. I'm afraid the shock is one that comes to only your small group of investigators alone, Mr. Brass."

"Please, call me Jim."

"Thank you, Jim."

"You're very welcome. Now, you seem like a woman that has it all together, Ms. Remind."

"I would hope so." Eva's hands settled gracefully on the table. "I am at the pinnacle of the organization handling the career of the immensely historical singing group known as "The Sixteen". We are world renowned for our talent, our pride, and our grace. There is no better thing in the world. Naturally, I would only want the best for my child."

"Does that seem fair to you to allow your son to participate?"

"Naturally. Marcus was my child by a first marriage, surely you will see that in your files."

"Ah yes. The first of three marriages, I see. You must be quite a catch."

"I have recently realized the merits of being wedded to ones job."

"And you perform that job quite well." Nick entered the room, stepping on Brass' line.

Eva bowed in her chair, hair following softly down the line of her neck. "Thank you, Mr. Stokes. I appreciate the compliment."

Nick smiled. "Ms. Remind, you told me that you had the entire list of allergies, pages of medical histories, all of which your associate faxed to my supervisor a few moments ago. My only question is then how did you not feel it was pertinent to tell us about your connection to a suspect?"

Eva's face drew color from her cheeks. "You have not told me Marcus is a suspect. Why would you put him through such an ordeal? I expected better of your judgment, Nicholas."

Nick sat down across from Eva. "I expected better of yours. If you had been upfront before the investigation began than maybe we'd be avoiding all of this. But you pushed us forward more than once. Did you think we'd just miss the fact that Marcus is your only son?"

Eva cocked her head, her voice rising in confusion. "And why would Marcus do such a thing? He loved Julian very much."

Brass piped in from his position near the wall. "Too much, I think. He's telling us quite a few interesting things next door, Ms. Remind."

"Such as?"

Jim thought for a moment. "From what a hear, pointing his fingers every which way towards your involvement."

Eva's lips moved toward a shocked round shape. "How absurd is this tragedy you're building!"

Nick shook his head. "I'm not so sure. But you were right that Marcus loved Julian, although maybe a little too much love for you? Perhaps you thought that you'd never see a grandchild? What could Marcus possibly gain from killing Julian except your acceptance?" Nick was standing by the end of the speech.

"My, you are passionate about your work, aren't you?" Eva made the motion of shielding herself from Nick with the turn of her shoulder where her purse normally lay.

Gil knocked on the door and Nick turned in response. Nick nodded as Gil whispered in his ear, licked his lips and then made a hasty retreat. Jim slid into the seat Nick had occupied and smiled at Eva.

In the other room, a pale and listless Marcus Dresian was coming to life in the worst way. His episodes were violent at best and were littered with gibberish epitaphs against various people at worst. The ghost of his best friend and fellow choir member seemed to haunt Marcus. Even his restraints could not keep him sitting or even still. Two police officers held him down as Nick swiftly entered the room.

"I understand you've been asking for me alone."

Marcus gasped for breath. "Yes, I…I wish to sign a confession. But only to you."

Nick cocked his head and then drew a chair close enough to pat Marcus' knee if the occasion warranted. "Are you sure? That's a pretty hefty thing to do in the state you're in."

Marcus shook his head. "If I don't do it now then I'll lose my nerve. Did you know Eva is my mother?"

Nick nodded as Marcus continued. "I didn't want to disappoint her. And then this…." He began to spout gibberish again between bouts of tears, but his movements did slow.

Nick spoke slowly and softly, seeming to have a sort of calm effect on the distraught tenor. "Just start from the beginning. I promise at the end you won't hurt so bad. Should we get some Kleenex to clean up your eyes a bit?"

Marcus nodded hesitantly and wiped his face briefly. Nick nodded and the deputies removed themselves from Marcus' side. All that was left in the room was Nick, Marcus, the bare furniture, the lights, and a blank page of confession.

Marcus began slowly, as if reciting a dream. "We were celebrating our anniversary secretly that night. I had made sure to purchase fish oil alongside the olive oil. There was no one to be suspicious around me, most of the group had already finished shopping and had returned to his or her various suites. It was so much…the guilt…the secrecy. And my poor mother who works so hard…"

Nick nodded softly, looking into Marcus' red-rimmed eyes. "Easy, just stay on track. That way you won't lose it."

Marcus nodded in return and then began again soberly. "Of course. I think the best evidence you'll find is the Epipen. I borrowed it from mother as she came to the grocery to receive the groceries and me. I cannot drive because of an eye defect and I do love the time with her. We drove back and I innocently replaced the medicine of the Epipen by syringe. Of course, you won't find the syringe because I had time to replace it after our first meeting. I think though that my fingerprints alone should be incriminating evidence enough."

None of this scenario felt correct to Nick, but perhaps Marcus would gain common sense and see the error in his story if indeed he continued on. "I made sure that I cooked that night because I always cooked. Julian was a rare chef and I was quite glad to serve him. I loved him you know. That was quite plain." He was crying again, but softly and at the point of dry tears. "I did love him."

"And so you killed him?"

"Out of love. Out of respect for him, for my mother. He wanted to run away to Toronto and marry before we returned. It would not be legal. Our reputations, the reputations of the group! I wanted to, but I was not brave." Marcus shook his head and then revived briefly. "May I see her once more before I am transported wherever I am to be?"

Nick shook his head. "I'm afraid not, although I'll try to arrange it. Marcus, are you sure of all this?"

Marcus bit down on his lip. "All too sure. But there was a stroke of luck. The Epipen he always inserted through the hand that was gripping the wine glass. That's how he died, I just wish I hadn't ran for he will never be warm again." At that point, Marcus once again became wild and unrecognizable as the man who had loved Julian. Several years would march again before he was capable once again to sing or even respond to polite questions. Nick never actually regained the stomach to follow up after the investigation was closed, but, for the moment, the sound of someone tapping behind the glass caused Nick to exit just as the deputies re-entered the room.


	6. Chapter 6

"We have no choice but to prosecute. The story, the fingerprints; it all checks out Nick." Gil looked over his glasses while holding several files as he flipped through them.

Nick shook his head. "No. Something doesn't check out."

Gil sighed in response. "Obviously. The only problem is that the Albertsons surveilliance cameras catch the mother and son in the parking lot. Also, Marcus' fingerprints were found on the Epipen just as he said they would be."

Nick bit down on his lip. "She orchestracted the whole thing!" He felt quite proud of himself stopping just short of calling her some irreputable name that Marcus might just hear in a lucid moment.

"Be that as it may, his story and confession gel with the rest of the evidence. I'm sorry, Nick, but unless you can come up with another lead, Mr. Dresian will be deported." Nick barely felt Gil's eyes as they stared into his anger. "The only solace we'll have is that Marcus won't go to prison. His sanity is unstable and best and his insanity is dangerous and delusional at its very worst. Until he can recover from his nervous breakdown, one of the group ambassadors has agreed to escort him home with law enforcement."

"And the mother?"

Gil shook his head. "She's not completely out of the woods yet. Greg's checking every event to see if Ms. Remind has purgured herself in any way. Our best bet is to at least force her from her current position and send her back to Europe."

Nick scratched his head, ears pounding. "That will have to be the start."

Gil began to walk away. "I'm afraid it looks more like an ending than anything else."

Some time later, Nick could still hear the rushing pounding of blood in his ears. Greg looked up from his copy of Newsweek. He was only three months behind now and felt sure that he would catch up on the issues by the end of the month. That was a record for him. Nick looked worn and haggard, a defeated and deflated balloon in many ways.

"You plan on pacing all night?"

Nick turned sharply at the foot of the bed. "You know what gets my goat the most about this whole thing?"

"People who say "you know what gets my goat?" Greg ventured his best guess.

For a moment, Nick digested the attempt at diffusing the tension in the room. "She won! After all the work, she still won."

Greg shook his head. "We haven't won every case. Unexpected results, left field confessions, they happen all the time Nicky. What bothers you so much about this case?"

"Honestly?" Nick's voice was calming just slightly and his bare chest wasn't huffy and heaving like it had been breathing fire a few moments ago.

"Honestly." Greg nodded as he padded the cool area on the bed next to him.

Nick lifted the top blanket and slid next to Greg on the sheets. Greg turned away momentarily and set his copy of Newsweek down, forcing his full attention on a Nick that was about to bare his soul, a rare act for Greg to witness even living with the man.

Nick's adam's apple quivered just a bit as the lines around his eyes deepened. "It's just that, I keep thinking that those two really loved each other and they led this great charmed life and then one day…."

Greg shook his head. "You worry too much."

"I…" Nick didn't have a better response as Greg lips planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Let it go, baby. We worked together and Eva was fired. Marcus is going to get the help he needed and you get to sing with the Sixteen, an achievement which most can only dream of. You've got the house, the truck, the pool table…"

"The boyfriend."

Greg nodded shyly. "Yes, that too."

"But it can all be taken away in a single snap." Nick snapped his fingers once to prove the point. "I worry…"

"You can't hold onto this. Stuff, all this, will come and go. But I'm here right now and so are you. That's all we have. Grissom taught me that and I suspected he tried to teach you that as well." Greg ended the speech by snuggling deep into Nick, diffusing whatever anger the older man had left.

A few more days passed and Nick's phone remained silent. No word from Ms. Collins, who was in absentia taking the direction of the choir from Eva. He began to worry until his phone vibrated one morning. It startled him so much that he nearly dropped the cell phone in his over easy eggs and hash browns. Greg's head turned as Nick spoke into the phone, his voice slightly warbly and nervous. His hand moved over Nick's wrist, still gripping onto his fork and he smiled.

Opening night came. Even after all the rehearsals and clicking with the rest of the men while remaining slightly aloof, Nick still felt nervous. Clifford sat to his right as they put on stage make-up for the performance. The wafting scent of base moved through the backstage room.

"Man, how do you do it Cliff? I can barely sit still."

Cliff looked over at Nick, his mouth turning thoughtfully upwards through his somewhat bushy black beard. "You know, you never do. Marcus and Julian were both always wonderfully calm and I do suspect it was because they had each other." He sighed, betraying his years.

The dancing butterflies in Nick's stomach were joined with several pits the size of large avacados regarding the scandal that had befallen the singing group. He was still unable to think about Marcus without shaking his head and turning his disappointment inwards. Clifford looked at his watch. "Well, I suppose we'd best be off." From his pocket, he produced a navy blue hankerchief which he waved in front of Nick.

"Come, Mr. Stokes. Put this over your eyes."

Nick eyed the dark blue object with hesitance. "And why...?"

"Think of it as a trust exercise. You may be nervous, but you won't have time to think about it being lead blind to the stage. We also consider it a great hazing ritual into the Sixteen experience."

"Ah." Nick grabbed for the hankerchief and tied it loosely around his eyes, allowing his pupils just enough room to peek at the ground without being noticed by the person leading him. He had been in a fraternity, and so he knew the drill but he also knew the rules around such an event. Nick was nothing if not clever.

Boards creaked under his weight as he traveled a familiar path to his stationed riser. He could hear the sedate noise before the behind the curtain as showtime would soon commence. Clifford provided a play by play account of the things that were happening and he hummed a few notes of "Pie Jesu" to himself as he readied his mind for the things he knew he needed. Someone shoved his black music folder into his hands and he fingered the outside edges of the pages with familiarity. His nervousness began to evaporate, the music acting as Linus' blanket always had.

A moment before the curtain began to rustle, Clifford whipped off the dark blindfold and Nick blinked as he looked out over a sea of faces. There was no time to recognize individual people, but he knew that Grissom, Hodges, Catherine, and several of his friends would be in the audience, along with his mother who had taken her first and only plane ride out of Texas. Greg was out there too, the difference was that Nick didn't have to look for him. He could sense the man he loved in the building close by.

The orchestra began to swell and Nick held tightely to his folder until his knuckles turned white. The words came out in tune, with meaning and bravado. This was a dream and a chance that he never dreamed might come, even to Las Vegas. Nick tried to hold back tears. He was not a sensitive man by any measure and the audience seats weren't as full as they could have been, but the Texan would have surely been as emotional even if only three older couples dressed in opera garb complete with glasses were the audience. He was living this for himself, for Marcus, for Julian, for Greg.

But there was one voice that seemed cohesive and yet out of place. It was nothing that was technical, the group was glorious and unified. The other replacement was familiar, joyful, almost too young and with too much zest to be part of the Sixteen. Verve, of course, was not something limited to a youthful set but Nick felt that somehow, this was a younger man. He glanced over at the slim figure with the other tenors and he tried not to choke back the note. The hair, the body, the hands. Greg's eyes turned briefly as though he knew he were being recognized and the younger man smiled, high-fiving Clifford in his mind. Nick was clearly shocked.

They sang together for the next hour in a large group of worshipful, classic voices singing uplifting and ancient music full of character and rhythm. The time came for the ending notes and Nick found himself moving air through his very soul and expending all of his energy into that final note. One single tear wrenched loose in beauty and the shine reflected for a mere instant from the hot stage lights. A tiny sheen of sweat masked it, however noticeable to the audience it may have been.

The music ended, it was over and a dream had been lived. Nick stood there, bowing and unable to speak as each section took a bow. He felt the riser beneath him and the warmth of the stage all around him. This once he had been a part of something so beautiful and not so gruesome. He looked toward his radiant lover and set his face. This was the right time. Clifford had already tapped the alto in front of him on the shoulder and all parted ways for the Texan.

Greg looked rapturous, positively glowing in his classic black tuxedo. He felt Nick's hand behind his back and the world seemed to halt with the stunned heartbeat beginning to become more rapid. Greg could feel slight dews of sweat building between himself and Nick's lips as they kissed onstage for all of the classical viewing world. The cheers and the clapping became louder and yet they were the only two in the entire place. Greg was swimming, living his own dream. No matter what fresh hell descended upon their world he would always remember the taste of Nick in this place and under this testimony.

The man of his dreams was in love with him.


End file.
